la talents cachés

writers: Mod A, mod e, mod m

[asingletonsociety]

burgundy

and i will be a song you'll not sing perhaps, backstage when you fall on your dress. the skin is raw, peeled, and i watch with a bleeding heart.

you pass on my legacy. i left.

i'm a song you will cry to, after sharing so freely. i didn't want to be the end to your misery, the misery ended.

you have been blue. my heart was borrowed, (but by none longer than you).

i will become a song you smile to, when it is being screamed back to you.

[voirlvmer]

“What do the ghosts of this city do, these muffled early-morning hours?”

— Han Kang, from “Fog”, The White Book

[metamorphesque]

musings on Spring

— Rainer Maria Rilke, The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke | Pablo Neruda (?) | Louise Glück, Vita Nova | Alberto Caeiro, The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro | Vladimir Nabokov, Mary | Etel Adnan, Jebu | Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary | Bangtan Sonyeondan (방탄소년단), 봄날 (Spring Day) | Artwork by Claude Monet

[asingletonsociety]

Yk bts has paved the way when they are getting featured in tumblr literature aesthetic posts

[asingletonsociety]

Dunkirk

We went to Dunkirk for a day. It was a barren wasteland, Once historical, but now empty: My life, materialised in one place. You took my hand, we ran around Freely, just because we could; Felt the soil beneath our toes, It was heaven, but transient. We flew like birds, without wings, Far from where the world could touch us. We dreamt of this, remember, When we were in our gilded cages? Yes, it was a beautiful time, but Stolen moments slip away like a thief. You flew away from me, darling. Don't worry, I still love you, Yet the love I feel is in dismal greys, Not a vivid rainbow. A tragedy I have written many songs about, Ones which you don't dance to. The melody plays, the choir cries, I lose myself in Dunkirk once more.

...

poet's note under the cut

note: had this saved in my drafts for a long time. never got to posting it. when I wrote this, I didn't think this was particularly good, but now I feel better about this.

[brokenrustedweaponry]

Body comparison Essential iris atrophy and a black hole

[asingletonsociety]

oh how a small universe exists inside an eye

[butterflypeaflowertea]

these three emojis are brothers 🤔🤨🧐

[butterflypeaflowertea]

the first is the flashy youngest brother, the second is the pensive middle brother, and the third is the dignified oldest brother

[dsmsix]

[usersinirli]

[lsaaaaaac]

[smakkabagms]

“We are who we are not, and life is swift and sad. The sound of the sea is nocturnal, how many have heard it?”

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[brechtian]

all-women productions of shakespeare plays are so enlightened not for necessarily any feminist reason i just really like it when women kiss and duel each other to the death

[cariinae]

when two characters have a very intimate relationship and share secrets and would die or kill for each other but it isn’t clear if they’re in love or not so their relationship is left for interpretation >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[heartfuses-archived-deactivated]

black women in art.

[soft-lovely]

f*ck it, here are some silly pet paintings

[userscully]

robert pattinson could do the social network and andrew garfield could do twilight

[asingletonsociety]

They are girlfriends

[asingletonsociety]

kryptic

There was this boy I met in the bar, He was wearing a ratty T-shirt, And scruffy boots. His eyes were Tired under the yellow lights. He was watching football on TV,. His friends were sitting next to him, One with ginger hair, another with A tight lipped smile. The boy sipped Cheap beer, and cheered for England. I watched him quietly from my corner, There was something so sad in the Kid's eyes. I don't know how old he Was. The cigarettes had smoked up His face. There were crinkles on His forehead and around his eyes. One moment he looked old and Regretful, the next second, he laughed, And youth danced with him merrily.

[asingletonsociety]

neon

I met a girl in a bar, She was sipping martinis, And wearing black lips. Her feet were bare, and Under the dim lights, She whispered in my ear, She had run away from home. I was a jailbird myself. My house was burnt down By patriotic parrots, and Rioting racketeers. I smiled when she kissed me, She tasted like rebellion. A like soul embracing another.